


Uneasy Lies the Head

by JadeSelena



Series: Opposite Sides: 'missing' Vera/Hamish scenes [1]
Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Drama, Erotica, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeSelena/pseuds/JadeSelena
Summary: My version of the missing 'Tall Glass' scene from 2x03. Vera/Hamish. More character study than sexy fun times. M for cursing and erotic description/implication but nothing too graphic. Some friskiness, some drama, some angst, lots of Vera being Vera and Hamish being his adorable self.
Relationships: Hamish Duke/Vera Stone
Series: Opposite Sides: 'missing' Vera/Hamish scenes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924426
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Uneasy Lies the Head

**Author's Note:**

> So I made the mistake of mentioning 'tall glass' in The Sabbatical and someone suggested I write the scene. At first I dismissed it outright because my interest/talent runs more towards character development/character motivations/angst than sex scenes/smut which is what I originally classified that scene as. But then I thought about it and what started as a cute throwaway scene took on a darker connotation and ended up bugging me. So this is my new head canon. It doesn't contradict anything in canon (I don't think - correct me if I'm wrong) but I do 'make up' a lot more than I normally do in my stories because in my opinion the scene called for it. I don't like 'cute' scenes that make me dislike my favorite characters for the sake of being 'cute.' Feel free to let me know how you feel, good or bad, about the scene or the story.
> 
> It also gets a lot more sexual/kinky than I'm used to writing so be gentle ;) Not very graphic but a lot is implied.
> 
> Definitely don't own the characters. Am not suggesting my head canon should be canon (though it totally should lol).

_Bring me something in a tall glass…_

A thousand drinks in his repertoire and suddenly Hamish couldn't come up with a single one _,_ his mind too busy grappling with the possibility she'd meant what he thought she did. His stomach in knots with the possibility that she _didn't_.

He should hate Vera Stone. The woman who had used them then turned on them. Erased a good portion of who they were and split them up and stole all their stuff. Manipulated them into servitude. It was a no-brainer, really. But he just couldn't seem to do it.

Maybe it was because, like Lilith, recovering his old memories did nothing to replace the ones he'd gained. That afternoon the chancellor had sat in on one of his classes, observing silently but no less a distraction, the weight of her stare invigorating and magnetic and intimidating all at once. Or when he'd see her strolling across campus like she owned the place but always _alone_ and he'd find himself wondering if she was lonely; picture walking beside her, chatting with the same ease he did Selena and a familiarity he hadn't earned. How she'd mingle at department events, engaging but with a distinct air of mystery; saunter up to him in that mesmerizing way she had and make a random remark about seemingly nothing in that sultry voice that stayed with him long into the night. Be gone just as suddenly, before he'd even had a chance to formulate a somewhat coherent response… And if someone had told him then that she was the head of a clandestine magic society that secretly puppeteered the world he probably wouldn't even have batted an eye.

Or maybe it was because with the _pulveris memoriae_ he'd been genuinely happy for the first time in years. Hadn't been beholden to a decision he'd made perhaps impetuously, without considering what would happen once the drive behind it was gone. With Cassie's death not only had he lost his soul mate, he'd also been unceremoniously thrust into a role he hadn't wanted but that his hide had destined him for; had had to hold it together to carry on the Knights that were her legacy even when he'd been falling apart. He didn't regret it – wouldn't trade his time with her for anything – but for a few months he'd known what it felt like to be normal again. Unencumbered by grief or duty. _Free_. And he couldn't help but miss it.

Or maybe it was that jarring return to reality and his responsibilities that kept him from judging Vera as harshly as the others. He'd watched her jeopardize her position and her _life_ , in what was effectively a coup against the Order, to protect them all from Edward Coventry; walk into a literal wolves' den and fearlessly marshal a bunch of resentful murder machines because it was what needed to be done. That he'd sensed in her a kindred spirit, selfless by necessity if not by nature, sometimes having to do dubious things in the name of the greater good. Been relieved to, not _relinquish_ the burden he hadn't asked for, but share it with someone better suited to its demands (and being demanding) than he was. And if he were being totally honest, that wasn't the _only_ thing he'd seen himself sharing with her that day… So maybe it was mental gymnastics but he chose to believe her betrayal wasn't as cut and dried as it seemed.

He didn't dare dwell on it too long, though, because then he'd have to acknowledge that the very things that wouldn't allow him to hate her had given rise to the chafing and self-doubt that made him so willing to go _against_ her. That if Jack hadn't been there whipping them all into a vengeful tizzy he might have stopped to properly contemplate all the ways this insane plot to take down the Order could go _wrong_ , instead of assuming the most powerful people in existence (even _without_ their fetishes) would just roll over and concede defeat. And that, while the poetic justice of it all was irrefutably enticing, no leader worth their salt would be reckless enough to wager four against a hundred in an attempt to achieve it… But he didn't want to have to be the 'rain on their parade' guy right now, and he _definitely_ didn't want to be the guy who'd lost the plot because he'd gotten taken in by something shiny. Lilith was already suspicious; the last thing he needed was for them to start questioning his motives because at this point he knew he'd be tempted to just say 'fuck it' and let Jack take over completely.

And so here he was, voluntarily returned to the place they were taking such desperate measures to _escape_ , compelled by talk of unfinished business to say goodbye to those things he could never admit he was going to miss. Structure and purpose and dedicating his energy to learning something that was actually _useful_. A bar worthy his talents. Not being in charge and the woman who _was_ … He couldn't say what exactly he'd been expecting when he'd decided to make the trip but he couldn't deny he'd been hoping to have her to himself, waiting until the temple would be empty even though he had a (rather pressing) previous engagement. One last chance to enjoy the subtext and flirtation and maybe tease out the playfulness he knew lived just below the hard surface; to be looked at with appreciation and intrigue instead of disgust and disappointment. Before she either denounced him for succeeding or killed him for failing.

He _absolutely_ hadn't expected her veiled invitation – too guarded and untouchable and out of his league – but damned if he was going to pass up the opportunity to fulfill a fantasy he'd had pretty much since he'd met her. Especially when after tonight, regardless the outcome, he would never get another one. The others wouldn't ever even have to know because that was a memory he intended to keep for himself and he'd bet his entire investment portfolio _she_ would never tell. Really, he'd be stupid _not_ to do it, if only to strip her of her mystique and get her out of his system. Make a clean break with no regrets. He couldn't think of a single potential downside. Or maybe he was just getting really good at ignoring his better judgment…

* * *

Vera sat staring into the flames, wondering what in the hell she'd been thinking, propositioning a student. And not just _any_ student; an employee and a disciple and a werewolf she'd essentially defanged and mind-controlled into not knowing well enough to hate her for it. She'd be hard-pressed to find someone on campus _less_ appropriate to sleep with. If it were Edward she'd be calling foul on the flagrant abuse of power and likening it to rape, besides. So wrong on so many levels, and yet…

It was a necessary evil, she told herself. If she was going to allow the Knights their memories back – prove Council had been right to support her [in no way soft] decision and that they were in fact valuable assets – then she needed to first ensure they were loyal to the Order. And what better way to do that than by ensuring their leader was loyal to _her_? It was strategy, pure and simple. To keep them alive, to strengthen the organization, and yes, _less nobly_ , to keep Kepler from having her ousted for the egregious sin of having a sliver of conscience. She'd done far worse for far less.

It had nothing to do with him at all, really. She'd had _all_ the Knights closely monitored, fully anticipating her benevolence to come back and (quite literally) bite her. If she'd taken a more involved approach to _his_ surveillance… well, it was only because she'd been required to put that plan into action early when she'd heard he'd become a bit too cozy with his monitor; because while using Miss Durov to garner his allegiance may have worked just as well, after Miss Drake she had little faith in her peoples' ability to remain unaffected where those damned wolves were concerned. Besides, it was just less conspicuous for the chancellor to be seen frequenting the Philosophy department than attending sports events or whatever violent activities Miss Bathory liked to engage in for fun.

It meant nothing that he'd readily set aside their sworn enemy status to work together against Edward (any good leader _would_ ), or that, despite the sass, he'd heeded her command and refrained from killing any of her people (anyone who knew their place _should_ ). And it definitely wasn't that waiting for the attack hadn't been the only tension mounting in that ridiculously-nicknamed and unfortunately-decorated den that day (it was common enough when facing the threat of death), or that he was the closest thing she had to an equal in what increasingly felt like a preschool for practitioners (because _that_ certainly wasn't saying much). That since his induction he'd been enthusiastic and protective and attentive, the plan seeming to have progressed _unrealistically_ well, and if she hadn't been assured it was impossible she would suspect _she_ was the one being played…

The sound of a throat being cleared broke Vera from her musings and she swiveled to see him brandishing a tray with all the grandeur she'd come to expect from him. Giving off a mix of boyish charm and uncertainty and eagerness that normally she would have found endearing and/or annoying but the only thought she was capable of processing was that, one way or the other, it wasn't _real…_ "Leave it," she instructed curtly, picking up a pen and pretending to work. Felt bad and tacked on a softer, "Thank you."

Hamish tilted his head in confusion. "Grand Magus?"

For the first time ever she balked at the title, its use a validation she neither wanted nor needed. Forcing herself to meet his gaze she drew from her vast reserve of contempt to note, "That isn't a tall glass." What was a little gaslighting after everything else she'd done?

Her lack of blazer and the extra button undone on her blouse (not that he was an expert on her décolletage or anything) reassured him that he _hadn't_ misread the situation. Unsure what had changed but unwilling to let it go so easily, he motioned to the tumbler of transparent red liquid. "I decided to go with substance over stemware. It's a…"

"This isn't one of your temple duties," she quickly interjected, partly to clear up any misunderstanding but mostly because she couldn't bear to hear about whatever concoction he'd meticulously selected for the (non) occasion. "…Or any of your other duties, for that matter."

Hamish realized that in his quest to find the perfect cocktail he'd left her on her own long enough to talk herself out of it (and really, he shouldn't have needed necromancy to see _that_ coming). What he _didn't_ know was whether she actually believed he thought it an obligation or it was just an excuse to keep the walls up.

Vera turned back to the… requisition form for a new industrial oven… and began scrutinizing it like it was next year's budget. "Good night, Mr. Duke."

Mustering all his courage he set the tray atop her papers and waited for her to give him her (displeased) attention. It was accompanied by a wave of her hand, and he vaguely registered the doors creaking closed behind him. "I'm not here in any capacity other than as someone who _wants_ to be here, Vera."

That meant nothing – he was exactly the kind of eager-to-please teacher's pet who would want to be there simply because he thought that's what _she_ wanted. Which, needless to say, was somewhat odd (and perhaps a little disconcerting) for the leader of a pack of werewolf knights. If she hadn't gotten that impression even while making the Nephilims' Tears she would worry all the memory wiping had broken him… As a reward for his insolence she gave a skeptical hum; deadpanned, "Really? Because from what I hear you would much rather be spending your time with Mr. Carpio."

Hamish practically choked on his tongue in shock, knowing he'd turned an interesting shade of pink. "What? How did you…"

"Your colleagues can be quite informative when they think it will curry them favor." Or cast someone else _out_ of it, as the case may be. She didn't encourage the practice – and it usually had _opposite_ the desired effect – but it certainly had its benefits… "I have plenty of fascinating tidbits in my arsenal, loaded and ready for when the right moment presents itself. You would do well to remember that."

_Fuck._ No wonder she thought he was there out of obligation… No idea where he was even going with it he started stammering a denial. "It wasn't like that. We're not… I don't…"

"Relax, Mr. Duke," she interrupted, taking pity on him. And on _herself_ because keeping a straight face was becoming something of a herculean feat. "I'm no prude. Nor am I a stranger to students – magic or otherwise – going to extreme lengths to get out of doing their work." She raised a reproving eyebrow. "I profess I wouldn't have predicted _you_ to be one of them, though. While it's only natural for inductees to stick together in this brave new world, perhaps Mr. Carpio is not the best influence on you."

It was hard to be relieved she hadn't figured it all out when the alternatives were either her believing he was attracted to Randall or _worse_ , that he was a slacker. Disputing her assumption ran the risk of her rethinking _everything_ but he just couldn't let it stand… "I wasn't avoiding my work, Vera; I was avoiding _Selena_. And making it clear that I'm not interested."

Annoyed on levels she wouldn't examine any further, Vera's lips thinned as she processed the information. "I wasn't aware there was an issue," she admitted tightly, that being one of the things she categorically insisted on knowing about if it was happening under any of her roofs but _especially_ when it involved practitioners. "Is it something I should concern myself with?" Maybe she'd forego assigning a seminar and move straight to corporal punishment.

Whatever guilt he felt for the… well, none of it was a lie per se but it _was_ very much misleading… was _absolutely_ worth it for the hint of jealousy he detected. Besides, he couldn't feel too bad when odds were fifty/fifty Selena _herself_ had been the one to make the deception necessary. "No – I think she got the message. And I actually have no qualms with her as a tutor." Or a _need_ for one, after tonight. Still, he'd be remiss if he didn't propose a cheeky, "Unless you'd consider taking me on as a _personal_ project."

Oh, he and his friends were already _more_ than enough of a personal project. One with the potential to get her killed, no less… Shooting him an unimpressed look (that thoroughly discounted the way her pulse had sped up at the prospect), she gingerly extracted her papers and resumed her work.

Even if nothing would have ( _could_ have) come from it, he couldn't help but be disappointed. Luckily for him the obvious deflection, while temporarily _effective_ , had provided him the perfect opening: "I suppose I could have just told her the truth…"

It was a blatant ploy to pique her curiosity and yet… Vera briefly closed her eyes in resignation, then put down her pen with a sighed, "Dare I ask?"

Hamish suppressed a victorious grin. "Who I'm _really_ interested in." After a beat he dropped his voice to huskily add, "But I knew you wouldn't appreciate being the subject of gossip."

The puerility of it really should have rendered the entire 'confession' laughable but the breath lodged in her throat didn't seem to agree. Suddenly the ubiquitous pull from her drawer intensified, an ethereal promise that the ability to go back and correct her mistake was well within her reach. "Yes, _well_. As flattered as I'd be if this were _high school_ , Mr. Duke…" She paused to brush non-existent dirt from her desk, carefully choosing words she could justify. "…You just don't know any better." Saying it aloud hurt far more than it had any right to.

It was so matter-of-fact that he had no doubt she was speaking literally, the traces of sadness and regret he wasn't sure he would have noticed without his memories convincing him more than ever that she wasn't proud of having _taken them_. The urge to assure her he knew everything and it changed _nothing_ was immediate and near overwhelming but he managed to curb it. "What do you mean?"

"You're still new here," she shrugged, standing and moving to the bar. In desperate need of a drink (and some distance) and refusing to take _his_ lest it send the wrong message. "Give it time, Acolyte; you'll find cause to hate me." Sooner rather than later if Miss Drake didn't get her shit together. Why she'd delegated something so important to a disciple – and a _compromised_ one at that – she would never understand. Wouldn't even entertain the possibility it had been a subconscious 'fuck you' to Council for forcing her hand; that she'd set it up to fail like she had in giving Edward the section of the _Vade Maecum Infernal_. Because _that_ genius plan had worked out so well…

Hamish quirked an offended eyebrow she couldn't see. "That'll be right _now_ if you do what I think you're about to." The actual (yet empty) threat doubled as a bid for time while he scrambled for a way to persuade her that _didn't_ involve throwing everyone under the bus.

Vera replaced the decanter with a wry chuckle. _Of course_ the claws came out at a perceived insult to his mixologist manhood. A welcome (and simultaneously _unwelcome_ ) reminder that he wasn't a pushover, he was just more discerning when choosing his battles.

Pleasantly surprised as he was that she'd listened, he hated that it seemed to have deflated her, bent over the bar head bowed… Retrieving his glass he stepped up behind her, careful not to touch, and snaked his arm around to present it. "It's called _La Fortuna_." At first it had only struck him as 'funny,' what with them about to clean out her vault, but he'd kept coming back to it while exploring his options. "I'm not sure I could ever hate you, Vera. I understand you too well."

" _Do_ you now?" she drawled, ignoring the name, the offer, and, with _much_ difficulty, her body's response to how close instinctively straightening had brought them. Focused instead on getting rid of the sudden tightness in her chest. "And just what is it that you think you understand?"

Hamish did an impromptu review of what he 'should' know. "I haven't seen you take a break since I got here, running yourself ragged with the school and dealing with the fluff-bunny and preparing for this no-novices-allowed ritual you have coming up." Emptying his hand to rest it beside her, he sent the other ghosting over her hair. "You take control of everything not because you're hoarding power but because you don't dare risk what may happen if you _don't_." Slowly gathered the dark mane to sweep over her shoulder, fingertips just barely grazing her in the process; swallowed a groan when she shadowed the movement, baring her neck. "So much so that you're willing to put up with the incessant meddling of a woman who is clearly your inferior in _every_ way."

Vera let loose an unladylike snort. "Well, she certainly lacks my _vision_ …" The warm puff of air across her skin as he laughed caused her eyes to drift shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

How could he _not_ admire someone with such a firm command of wit and snark (and just about everything _else_ )? "I know you're doing the best you can, Vera; that you have your reasons even if you may not like them and we may not be privy to them." His lips hovered just over her pulse point, the effort not to close the gap almost physically painful. "I could never hold that against you."

Grip white-knuckled on the bar to counter the weakness in her legs, she idly wished he'd hold _something_ against her… She was going to have to check that Stubbs' Guide for mentions of animal magnetism or super pheromones or anything that would explain how he could get her so fucking _hot_ doing so fucking little. " _Mr. Duke…_ " She trailed off, undecided on whether to chastise his boldness or curse his restraint.

God, she was killing him. The sound of his name and the scent of her arousal (so strong he suspected her jacket wasn't the _only_ thing she'd removed while waiting). Her misguided resistance and maddening self-control. " _Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown_ ," he whispered, exhaling a path up to her ear. "Let me help you forget, Vera. At least for a while."

Vera stiffened, her eyes, still stinging from the quote, shooting open. While she should probably be grateful for the ice-bath of a wake-up call – especially when she'd been *this* close to spinning around and jumping him – all she felt as she slipped away was _hollow_.

_Fuck._ Hamish's heart sank, recognizing his misstep. He turned but didn't follow.

"This was a mistake." With her chair safely separating them she stopped and smoothed her clothes with shaky hands. "You need to leave."

Despite her proclamation the doors hadn't opened, and he could only hope that meant the situation was still salvageable. Finding a plausible (alternate) explanation for her reaction he adopted a conciliatory tone. "I didn't mean to imply you can't handle it, Vera. I _know_ you can. It's part of why I'm here."

Vera lifted a wary eyebrow.

"It's damn sexy," he shrugged, unashamed, then got serious again. "I just meant that if it were me… Responsible for everyone. Making decisions with life-or-death implications." Worrying about whether he was agreeing to things he _shouldn't_ because he was overly concerned with being their buddy… "I think it would be nice to be able to escape occasionally. And maybe it's selfish but I want to be that for you."

Why did he have to be so fucking _earnest_? It made it really hard for her to dismiss it as simple apple-polishing… "It's also _arrogant_ , Mr. Duke," she chided as soon as she'd regained use of her voice. "You seem to think you can perform miracles."

Hamish wondered if she was aware the rebuke was kind of weak and also _not_ a rejection, which was really all the encouragement he needed… Locking his gaze onto hers – as though it could somehow freeze her in place – he began to approach; suavely promised, "What I lack in skill I make up for in determination and attention to detail."

Panic set in as he easily rounded her make-shift shield but pride won out (at least that's what she _told_ herself it was) and she stood her ground. "I'm demanding and difficult to please." She'd intended it to be determent but it came out sounding every bit a challenge.

"Never would have guessed," he teased, looming over her. "But I'm willing to give it the old college try." Slowly, to avoid spooking her into fleeing again, he leaned in.

Vera's breath hitched in anticipation but he only reached past to carefully move the things on her desk out of the way. And damned if it wasn't one of the _sexiest_ things she'd ever seen… "I can't do this." Yet here she was, inhaling his scent – absentmindedly noting he smelled fucking good and not at all what she'd _expect_ a werewolf to smell like – and oh so tempted to occupy the spot he was clearing and trap him between her legs and…

The hand she'd put to his chest moved with him but provided no guidance of its own, leaving him to assume she'd yet to decide _what_ its purpose was… His task complete, he paused in his retreat to murmur, "If it helps, you don't have to actually _do_ anything." While it wouldn't be his _first_ choice he was fairly confident she wouldn't be able to resist taking charge. If there was ever something to take charge _of_ , that is… "I am going to need you to say you want _me_ to, though."

Blinking up at him through a lust-filled haze she tried to gauge if he was actually serious; settled on _of course he is_ and frustration took over. "How incredibly 'Boy Scout' of you, Mr. Duke."

Yeah, well, her signals were still very much mixed and Lilith had them all very well _trained_ … The disdain made it clear the chivalry wasn't appreciated, though, so he gave her a crooked grin. "Maybe I just want to hear you beg."

Even if she believed him – which she _didn't_ – the mere suggestion was ludicrous. "That's quite the aspiration. Especially considering I asked you to _leave_."

It wasn't bitter but it _was_ pointed, making him realize he may have crossed the line between gentle persuasion and callous entrapment. And seeing as he couldn't just tell her the truth (which admittedly would only present a whole _new_ set of obstacles)… "Okay."

"Okay?" she repeated dumbly, her heart maybe skipping a beat.

"As much as I want this…" Covering her hand with his he gave it a barely restrained squeeze. "…And trust me: I _do_ … I'm here because I thought you wanted it, too. Not to pressure you into doing something you're going to regret." A little voice in his head (annoyingly) soothed that it was probably for the best because he'd have given her a completely _different_ reason to regret it soon enough…

Vera's eyes narrowed at the implication she was so easily influenced – yet _another_ instance of his arrogance – even as she wondered when 'Boy Scout' had ceased to be such a turnoff.

Hamish gestured to the untouched cocktail so he'd have to let her go. "Text me and let me know how you like it. I made it a little less sweet for…" His attempt at a casual exit, and consequently his train of thought, was derailed by her fingers latching onto his vest.

_Fuck it – I'm going to hell anyway…_ Before she could come to her senses she tugged him down and crashed her mouth hungrily to his.

Putting a hand on her waist to keep from toppling he responded with equal (if delayed) fervor. Kissing her was everything he'd imagined it would be – wanton and frenzied and _rough_ – but she tasted of Scotch and even though she'd probably poured it herself just the _idea_ of someone else doing it for her made his grip tighten and _Dear_ _God_ , he was in trouble… "Vera…"

"This is the part where you stop talking, Mr. Duke." If she was talking then her brain was working and if her brain was working then this _wouldn't_ … Perching on the edge of the desk she steered his unoccupied hand to her bared thigh then recaptured his lips and set to undoing his belt.

His pants were unbuttoned before he'd even noticed what she was doing, mesmerized by the smooth skin beneath his fingers and the thorough explorations of her tongue. He tried to put some distance between them but her heels were locked onto his calves and when had _that_ happened? "Vera, slow down."

She denied him with a violent shake of the head, making short work of his zipper. "I want you inside me."

_Jesus Christ…_ While his body was more than eager to oblige (which she surely felt beneath _her_ fingers), his mind still maintained some semblance of control and _it_ wanted more than just a quickie in the reliquary with the Grand Magus. "Vera, _wait_."

" _What_?" she huffed, reluctantly stilling. Breath shallow from desire and lack of air.

Her delivery of that one word warned she would sooner desist than accommodate requests, and he didn't think she'd make an exception for sentimentality. "What happened to 'difficult to please?'" She'd definitely lived up to the 'demanding' part.

She'd meant _in general_. "I can't afford that luxury right now; I still have that ritual to finish rehearsing." On which the very fate of the world rested so kind of a big deal. And between his preparations and her _vacillations_ they'd already exhausted the half-hour she'd mentally allotted this ill-advised little interlude.

She could surely afford it more than _he_ could afford to count on a repeat performance. On her being as understanding or as forgiving… Trying a different tack he heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Well, then you're leaving me at a disadvantage…" Drew a suggestive trail across her clavicle and down her cleavage. "You've already seen _me_ naked."

Hiding her amusement behind a roll of the eyes Vera refrained from retorting that that was _why_ he'd scored an invitation to fuck her, a tad cold (and crude), even for her. "You're _always_ at a disadvantage, Mr. Duke…" The wry observation was punctuated by the scraping of her nails along his (not insignificant) length through his clothes. "Seeing me naked wouldn't change that."

Pleasure and the ache of straining against taut fabric mounted while, under his manipulations, her black blouse gradually spread to reveal a sheer red bra. He groaned appreciatively, caressing the lace where it met the swell of her breast. " _No_ , but it might ease the pain of my inadequacies."

Clever as he thought he was (and secretly inclined as she was to _agree_ ): "It's my job to _divest_ you of your inadequacies, not make you feel better about them."

If he believed it would do any good he would argue she wasn't currently _on_ the job, her inability to shut it off exactly what he'd been hoping to help divest _her_ of (but would never get a chance to). What he _did_ believe was that he was dangerously close to finding himself back in the accursed 'off limits' box… Continuing his ministrations he quietly offered, "In my experience a softer approach gets great results."

Vera's eyeroll was genuine this time, both at the ridiculous notion and the (not-so) subtle reminder that he was more than just a student. She considered putting his mind at ease by telling him she had no intention of changing _hers_ but where would the fun be in that? "Yes, well. In my… somewhat less _extensive_ …experience, shame is a much more effective motivator than comfort." She wasn't there to be their friend – she was there to ensure they had all the skills and knowledge necessary to employ their gift properly and responsibly. There were no potentially catastrophic consequences to his students failing to grasp the principles of Descartes. And _speaking_ of potentially catastrophic consequences… "Now, if you're done dithering…"

For a second there the sarcasm had him worried he'd offended her but just like that she'd resumed her attack. He gasped into her mouth when she deftly released him from his confines, the welcome respite of air on his heated flesh immediately replaced by the delicious friction of being rubbed down with his own juices. _Fuck._ "Vera, _please_." He needed her to stop but couldn't bring himself to stop her.

"Who's begging now?" she purred against his lips, clamping her knees onto his hips and increasing the pressure of her strokes. "Never show weakness, Mr. Duke. There are scant few in our world who would hesitate to exploit it."

_Of course_ she'd prove him right by making this into a teachable moment, replete with 'torturous' demonstration… "I think I'll be okay…" Burying his face in her neck – struggling to maintain composure – he tugged her shirt free of her skirt and snaked a hand under it to cup her fully. "The number of people who can exploit _this_ weakness is fairly limited."

Vera instinctively arched into his palm, her head lolling to the side; still managed a tsked, "Letting someone know they have power over you is even _less_ advisable, Mr. Duke – it all but guarantees they can turn _anything_ into a weakness."

"I'd say we're a fair ways past that point," he mumbled, teasing her nipple through the thin material even as she continued inflicting her own sweet torment. "Wouldn't you?"

Yes, well, she'd been doing her level best to _ignore_ it. Hated that she seemed to be ignoring a lot lately… "What I'd _say_ is that I clearly have my work cut out for me – you seem quite content being at a disadvantage." Her low mewl took the bite out of the criticism but made him twitch satisfyingly in her palm.

Hamish blew across the wet spot he'd tongued onto her skin. "Depends on your definition of 'disadvantage,' I guess." Suddenly he was missing her warm grip and she was pushing on his chest and he realized he'd probably gone too far. "Vera…"

"You have fifteen minutes to prove your 'attention to detail' claim," she informed him, pulling her wrinkled blouse over her head to toss it aside. The capitulation (and a lost button) a small price to pay to get him to _shut up_. "But you should know I'll be mentally reviewing the ceremony while you do." Lest he be tempted to think he'd found _her_ weakness…

No time to waste on relief (or celebration), he eased her back onto her elbows, partly for access and partly to (at least briefly) hamper any ideas she had of interfering. Braced a hand on the desk and leaned in to her ear to whisper, "If you do that you'll be thinking about *this* while you're performing it…"

Vera inhaled sharply, as much for the husky promise as for his hardness that had come to rest against her inner thigh, so frustratingly close to where she wanted it. Denying the intense need to wrap her legs around him and _make_ it happen, she propped one heel on the seat of her chair and the other on the handle of her drawer and all but growled, "The clock is ticking, Mr. Duke."

Hamish smiled at her version of begging until the words sunk in, painfully accurate on a level she wasn't even aware of. Determined to make the most of what little he had – and memorize every last detail – he slid his free hand up her skirt to her core, covering her mouth with his own to swallow her heady moans. He could banish the thoughts for now and lose himself in her, but he knew with absolute certainty that come morning he would have another reason to add to the list of why he wished he'd never gotten his memories back.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it ends abruptly. Sorry - I just can't do sex scenes. This was far enough outside my comfort zone lol I hope you enjoyed anyway.
> 
> Title/quote actually meant to apply to the both of them.
> 
> So after this I kinda felt like things would be rough after the magic heist (obviously) and the show never explains how they just go back to sleeping together. Not kill them? Yes. She's gone to great lengths to avoid that. Forgive Jack? Yes. She'd forgive him just about anything, though i am curious to see how that goes in season 3 (Side note: when they're waiting to blow up the temple to defeat Rogwan and Alyssa points out that Vera favored Jack I really wish Vera's response would have been "And look where that got me") Forgive Hamish? Not so much or at least not so easily. It would make her look too weak. We know they're 'back together' when he gets kidnapped so my head canon is that it happened when they got back from the Prometheans and she was going through withdrawal. Jack knew she'd had it rough but he was going through it too so I'm going with Hamish took care of her and wore her down... I don't have the talent or the content to write an entire story around withdrawal though so let's just pretend I did ;)
> 
> Things I refuse to believe:
> 
> -That Vera was all like "Here, Miss Drake, I'm leaving you in charge of the management of the wolves - one of whom you're in love with and upon which my entire standing within the Order depends - so just don't screw up, m'kay?"
> 
> -That Vera didn't take over after the first few times they had to be re-powdered or when they first shifted
> 
> -That with all the re-powdering and shifting (and Alyssa being compromised/unreliable) it never occurred to Vera that they could have their memories back
> 
> -That with all the threats to put them down she never followed through on and the half-hearted chastising she did with Alyssa for the ineffectual powders Vera wasn't at least accepting of the fact that they may get their memories back
> 
> -That having Alyssa do the induction ceremony wasn't a very deliberate choice on Vera's part
> 
> -That if Vera hadn't expected them to get their memories back she wouldn't have been *a lot* more pissed. She was just mad they robbed her lol
> 
> What I'm saying, my friends, is that *that* is how you do plausible deniability. That's what I'm going with, at least. Maybe it was subconscious but I can't believe she would be so negligent if she'd actually intended them to stay neutered. She's too smart/controlling for that.
> 
> And unrelated to the above:
> 
> -That Vera suspected the Knights when her vault was robbed and she was willing to just blow up all of Norwich without having even a 'feel them out' conversation with one of them when the fate of the world depended on those sickles? I can see her not wanting to confront Jack or Hamish for personal reasons but that would leave her Randall and Lilith and she just *had* to know Randall's the weak link. So my options are either she lied about suspecting (which, see above, makes her an idiot) or she's a shitty Grand Magus (which we've seen no evidence of) Shoddy writing
> 
> -That Type A 'impeccable lip liner' Vera Stone doesn't wear color-stay lipstick. That kinda ruins that whole scene for me because it's front and center and played for laughs with no foundation in reality.
> 
> -That Vera is equally to blame for the apocalypse eruption (per Jack, and Hamish said nothing) What in the fuck now? I don't negotiate with terrorists so I'm equally to blame when they murder civilians? Is that how that works? Or was it because she killed Salvador in self-defense and 'made' Alyssa go all scorched earth? Someone explain it to me? I think I'm more pissed at Hamish because I expect no less than that idiocy from Jack wrt Alyssa. Hamish defends her on the stupidest things like 'Severa,' ostracizing the others, but here we got crickets. I swear I must be missing something.
> 
> Comments/discussion on any of the above is welcome. I like to know if I'm off on an island by myself :)
> 
> Not sure what my next story will be. Probably something sparked by comments as that seems to be my MO lately


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